


Italian-American Psycho

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-16
Updated: 2002-10-16
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Cross with American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis.  Very graphic violence.  Vecchio returns from Florida a changed man.





	Italian-American Psycho

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Italian-American Psycho

## Italian-American Psycho

by Jodie Louise

Author's website: http://freespace.virgin.net/jodie.mouse

Disclaimer: i have heavily borrowed from American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis - style/ideas/characterisation/situations and apologise. oh and they belong to Alliance.

Author's Notes: this was a challenge issued by Snowee to write the sickest halloween story so i thank her and everyone else on the writingduesouth list.

Story Notes: extremely graphic violence here.

* * *

* * *

Italian-American Psycho  
By  
Jodie Louise 

Back 

* * *

I am wearing a slate green-grey Armani suit with silk lining and Gucci shoes. As I pass a window I quickly check myself out in the reflection - I am looking good as always. The color of the suit harmonises and enhances my eyes and the gym membership I took out when I came back from Florida has really paid off. I've also been taking herbal pills to get my hair back. In a few months I'll have an almost full head of hair again. 

Chicago hasn't changed since I've been away, yet it feels different. I enter the 27th and then the bullpen. Kowalski is at his desk wearing a cheap unbranded T-shirt and Levis jeans. He is also wearing Doc Martens. 

Kowalski does not enhance himself by wearing such clothes. I could imagine him in a charcoal Prada suit with pinstripes perhaps. And Italian shoes. This would make Kowalski look halfway presentable. When we are out doing a case together I have to try and pretend that I don't know him that well so his total lack of style does not reflect on me. 

I would take Kowalski shopping but I'd be too embarrassed walking around department stores with him because he would mispronounce all the names of the labels. 

"Vecchio." 

I turn and see Huey grinning at me. He is wearing a wine coloured suit, could be Ralph Lauren but more likely an imitation. The stitching seems too inferior for it to be an original, although, thinking about it the suit could be off the peg. That would explain why it seems to drown Huey. I don't think the color suits him. A navy would have been better. 

"Huey." I say in acknowledgement. 

Kowalski glances up and I go over to him and sit down. I'm sure Kowalski is a faggot. Stella seemed to think so. I got rid of her when I found out she had cellulite. I refuse to date women who have cellulite. I don't want people thinking that I'm so desperate for a fuck that I date women with lumpy thighs. I'd rather hire a hooker for the night, at least you don't have to wow a hooker by taking her to the hottest new restaurant before you find out if she has cellulite or not. To think that people saw me out with Stella, spending out hundreds of dollars on restaurants with her when underneath it all she was sub-standard merchandise. 

It was beautiful the way Stella screamed when I tied her to the bed and started fucking her cunt with an electric drill. By the time I spooned her eyeballs out of her skull her lips had gone blue and her body was twitching. I mashed up her eyeballs with some sushi which I took down the precinct and gave to the pretty Japanese civilian aide. It took me ages to collect enough human tissue off of the walls to make convincing sushi. 

I like Keiko she carries the uniform off well. I might ask her out for dinner. Japanese women are supposed to be more obedient than American women. I'm sure she would go with the sort of things I like doing in bed. 

"Vecchio. Are ya listening to me? We've got the Watson case -- remember? The one Welsh has been on our backs about." says Kowalski. 

The Watson case. Yeah. 

Sushi 

* * *

"That sushi you brought in for me was very nice." says Keiko. 

She bows her head shyly as she says this. I love this movement so much it makes me want to rip her clothes off and her against the filing cabinet right now. 

"Yes. I made it myself, my own special recipe." I hear myself say rather than `I want to fuck you sensless' which is what I wanted to say. 

I smile at Keiko. I put on my Armani cologne today and know I look and smell good. After work yesterday I went down to Tasha to get a manicure and facial. The girl that did it could have done with losing a few pounds and doing something with her hair. May be slicking it back in a neat ponytail. Her eyebrows needed plucking too. However even if she did these things she would still be too ugly for me to be seen out with. 

"You will have to give me the recipe. It did not seem to be a traditional one." says Keiko interrupting my thoughts. 

"No. It is a very modern version." I smirk, very modern. 

"Have you ever been to Choi-Choi? They do the best sushi in Chicago." 

Choi-Choi has just had the most awful reviews in all the papers. I decide to be firm with Keiko, she is wrong and I am right. 

"I'm not sure I agree with that. Last time I went I thought the sushi was bland and the teriyaki sauce too laden with sodium. All I could taste was salt. I know a far better place called Neon. It has a waiting list of six weeks but I know the owner and could get us in next week." 

"Oh, I've heard about Neon, sounds divine." Keiko says smiling brightly at me, the bitch. 

"Next Friday, eight." I say, smiling at her again. 

I am sweating slightly. I don't really know the owner but I go to the same gym as one of the chefs. I will now have to make some sort of excuse to Keiko next week when I can't get us in. 

"Okay, Ray." 

She smiles at me and returns to her work. I feel dizzy and duck into the breakroom to take some Valium with Diet Coke. 

Sports Bar 

* * *

We wrapped up a case and Kowalski wanted to celebrate so I'm in a bar with him, Fraser, Huey and Dewey. I would rather be down the gym or watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Of course on video the blood is all fake and doesn't look the same. Real blood and flesh looks so much different. 

The Jack Daniels tastes good. I no longer hear what they are talking about. I'm looking at Kowalski at his hair, his skin. I realise how much I hate him. Hate his clothes and the fact he doesn't always shave. I'm watching his lips move but I can't hear what is coming out of them. Just watch the moving pink pieces of flesh. They remind me of Stella's ripped up and bloody cunt lips. Suddenly he stands up. 

"Jus' going to the can." Kowalski says. 

I watch him walk away. I wait and then follow him I take my leather gloves out of the pockets of my 100% pure wool Armani overcoat and put them on. I open the door to the bathroom. 

Kowalski is at the stall in the corner with his back to me. He is wearing a battered leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans and boots. I know he can tell I am coming up behind him. I can see the veins in his neck. Before I kill him I will tell him how I raped his ex-wife and then fucked her with a drill. I will tell him about how she screamed and how her blood and fat splattered across my face. I will then tell him how I cooked her intestines and fed them to Fraser's wolf the next day. 

I grab his neck. Kowalski turns around, his eyes take a while to focus. And he smiles placing his lips against my gloved hand. 

"Shit, Vecchio. Why now?" he asks. 

He looks at me -- with...love. Kowalski turns around to face me, caresses my arm with his fingers. And I cannot move, my hand is stuck to his neck. I try to squeeze but I can't move my fingers. He pulls me into the stall and closes the door behind me. 

"Why now, baby?" he murmurs, "Why here?" 

I feel his fingers brush my cheeks, he goes to kiss me and I try to pull back, Kowalski has me pinned to the stall door. I push him back and leave the stall. I can hear Kowalski zipping himself up and following me out. 

"Ray, I've seen the way you look at me. I know you want me and I want you. Why should we pretend?" 

I storm out of the bathroom back to our table. 

"Hey, Vecchio." Huey says when I sit back down, "Should your shoes match the color of your belt?" 

Walking the Half-Wolf 

* * *

Fraser let me take the wolf out for a walk. I have wrapped Keiko's liver, heart and kidneys up in some greaseproof paper. I found the best solution to my problem with the restaurant was to invite Keiko to mine before hand and then bludgeon her to death with a chainsaw. I disembowelled her slicing out her vital organs and her arms and legs. 

Fraser is always complaining about Kowalski feeding the wolf junk food so I decided I would feed Diefenbaker some proper meat. Liver is full of important vitamins, should make the wolf's coat nice and shiny. 

I find some trees and call Diefenbaker over. I pull the package out of my pocket. A wet nose sniffs my hand and I throw the package on to the ground. The wolf rips the paper open and chews on Keiko's insides. When Diefenbaker finishes he looks up at me, blood in his white fur. Keiko's blood. I want to feed Kowalski to the wolf. I want to rip out that faggot's heart and pull out his stomach. I wish to fuck his ass with a butcher's hook to teach him a lesson for being such a pervert. I want to do all this to punish him for daring to think I am a faggot. 

Halloween Party 

* * *

It is Halloween and there is a party at the precinct. I am expected to go so I wear my midnight blue Armani suit and cornflower blue silk tie. There are decorations around the bullpen which Frannie spent the whole afternoon putting up. 

"Hi, Vecchio. Where's ya costume?" asks Kowalski cheerfully, and I think how I would like to take a sledgehammer to his skull. 

He is wearing tight leather pants and a black silk shirt. There are little devil horns nestling in his blond hair. Around his eyes is smudged black kohl. He looks like a prostitute. Then I notice his nails, they are painted black. What a faggot. He steps real close to me and I try not to flinch. I can feel the warmth from his body. I want to reach into his ribcage and pull his heart out through the bone, muscle and sinew. 

"I'm a devil, Vecchio." says Kowalski winking at me. 

"I've got to..." I say, trying to pull away. 

Kowalski leans in real close to me and whispers in my ear. 

"Meet me in the closet in ten minutes." 

He pulls away and winks again, walking back into the crowd. I watch all the people dressed up as witches, cats, monsters. They are just mechanical going through their movements. They cannot see what I see or do what I do. I am glad I hid a large carving knife in my overcoat. I want to kill all of these stupid people. 

I stay for a while managing to control the urge to hack everyone into small pieces. Kowalski keeps looking over at me like he thinks I'm really hot. This makes me feel uncomfortable. Then Elaine comes over to me and we start talking about her new job as a Police Officer. 

Elaine is reasonably pretty with her dark skin, eyes and long curly hair. I think she could look really good in Valentino and tell her this. Her lips are painted scarlet and her nails are blood red. It could look tarty but Elaine can carry it off. I am watching her move -- I'd like to fuck her. I could take her in the closet roughly. I could take her when her cunt is still dry and rip up her insides. This image pleases me and I file it away for future reference. 

Average Day 

* * *

A streetlight was following me on the way to the gym today. Every time I stopped in traffic it was behind me. 

Did two hours at the gym, drank bottle of Evian with a couple of Valium, saw the woman with the cute ass on the running machine. Got her telephone number. 

I play `A Groovy Kind of Love' by Phil Collins on my Walkman as I enter the precinct. Collins is a fine musician and has to be the most talented drummer/singer of the twentieth century. It feels good to hear his music and the superb craftsmanship which has gone into the recording. There are so many talented musicians on this record and Collins is an absolute genius. 

Kowalski looks up and grins as I approach. I turn off the Walkman and nod as I approach. 

"Ya happy today, Vecchio." 

I sit down at the desk and let Kowalski talk about the latest case. I'm not really listening. Instead I think of different ways I could kill Kowalski. Axe. Knife. Gun. Electric Drill. Hammer. I will make his death beautiful, like Keiko's. I hacked Keiko's breasts off with a saw and fed them to the rats in the alleyway behind the precinct. 

Kowalski has gone quiet and is looking behind me. 

I turn and see Stella talking to Keiko. Stella talking to Keiko. Stella. And. Keiko. 

"She's still beautiful Vecchio. I don't understand why ya dumped her like ya did." Kowalski says still staring over at the women. 

I look at Stella and Keiko, watching them talking and laughing. I have a headache and rummage through my pockets trying to find my Halcion. I killed them both. I hacked them up and hung their bodies in the closet. And here they are walking and breathing. 

"Are ya okay, Vecchio?" asks Kowalski. 

His hand is on my thigh caressing it. I can't breathe. I feel like I'm gonna suffocate. Standing up I try and control my breathing and calmly leave the precinct. When I'm outside I wrap my 100% pure wool Armani overcoat tightly around me and start walking. 

The streetlight is following me again so I pick up the pace. 

When I pause at a pedestrian crossing I notice a sign across the street saying NO EXIT. 

* * *

End Italian-American Psycho by Jodie Louise:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
